Peace Offerings
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #34 Their attraction had been a deep secret, but due to a mindmeld, Kirk and T'Beth's secret is out. Now Spock finds himself cast in the peculiar role of peacemaker.


T'Beth paced nervously in the dusk. If only there had been time to meditate and calm the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. It had been nearly three years since she last saw Jim Kirk. The memory of that evening was still etched sharply in her mind—the dinner they shared, the embarrassing scene that followed when she tried to seduce him in a holo suite at Starbase 12. Even now, she could almost feel her face stinging. This meeting would be awkward enough without dwelling on the memory of that parting slap.

Near the Gate of Heavenly Peace, she came to a halt. She forced her attention on the old memorial erected to honor the university students slain for their democratic beliefs by the Chinese Communists in the 20th century. The force of its message dominated Tiananmen Square: a lone man standing courageously against an armored tank. The tranquility of modern China made it difficult to imagine the political turmoil of that long ago time.

A chill autumn wind buffeted her coat. Dried brown leaves flurried and scraped across the nearly deserted square. She thought she heard footsteps. Heart pounding, she turned. At the sight of her, Captain Kirk stopped and they silently appraised one another in the waning daylight.

He looked older than she remembered, though she could not quite think of him as fatherly. Her feelings for Jim had always been of a different nature.

"Well," he said, remote and unsmiling. "You wanted to see me. Here I am."

T'Beth shivered. This was going to be even more difficult than she had anticipated. She should have contacted him right after returning from Donari, instead of putting it off and putting it off—not out of disinterest, but out of shame. He had every reason to treat her coldly.

A puff of wind ruffled his hair, and her heart ached. He really was going gray now. Gathering her courage, she said, "Thanks for coming. I thought you might feel more comfortable meeting in public like this."

"Thoughtful," he commented dryly. "Your father said you've changed. I'm sorry, but I do find that hard to believe."

"He probably told you about—"

"You getting religion? Yes, I heard it all—quite a story. Is that why you left the Border Patrol?"

She chose to escape into silence rather than lie. Yes, she had left the Border Patrol, but not even her father knew the rest of the story. Though she was not currently in uniform, Starfleet was the guiding force behind her ongoing education at Beijing University. She had merely been shunted over to a division governing clandestine affairs, where she was being groomed and shaped for the nameless mission to which she had felt called ever since her healing. Only now it had a name. When the time was right, she would be able to tell Spock about it—but no one else.

She dearly wished she could explain everything to Jim. The wariness in his eyes pained her. It reminded her of the way Father used to look at her before the meld, before he had seen for himself that the changes in her were genuine and she could be trusted now.

At last she said, "I'm here studying at the university. Remember Lelia Chan? I board with her family. Her brother, Yong Po, shares some of my classes." No sooner was it out of her mouth, than she regretted it.

"I'll wager that's not all you share," Jim said with biting sarcasm.

No use denying it. He would never believe her. Stepping closer, she searched his face. The nearness brought a sharp, poignant stirring. "I wish things had been different between us. But even at Starbase 12, you said you cared about me…"

The suspicion in his eyes hardened to anger. "You never give up, do you? Tell me, what are you majoring in at the university? Bed-hopping?"

Her face went hot with humiliation. "That's not what I meant by caring."

He wasn't finished. "Is your father bankrolling this little Chinese adventure? Does Spock know you're really just out here sleeping around?"

"That's not true!" she insisted. "I'm not like that anymore. I'm not using people. Just think a minute and you'll know I'm telling the truth. Why is it that your heart didn't melt the minute you saw me? Why is it that you're able to stay so angry?"

"Practice. You've given me plenty of that, if nothing else."

"I'm _sorry,"_ she said, "I really am. But I _have_ changed. Father told you and he knows it for a fact. After Donari, I asked him to meld with me. I let him look into my mind."

Jim's mouth fell open. There was a sharp intake of breath as he absorbed the full implication of her words. "You—" he sputtered with fury. "You let him into your _mind?_ You let him see—us— _see everything that's gone on?"_

"I had to!" T'Beth said in defense. "You don't know what it was like—we were worse than strangers. You don't know what it meant to finally be close." Tearfully she added, "I'm not sure how much he actually saw…of you and me. We've never talked about it."

Jim's face had flushed red. His hands balled into fists and for a moment she thought he was going to strike her. Instead, he lashed out verbally. "My God! I can't believe you did that! You selfish, conniving little—" Breaking off, he finished, "You don't give a damn how many people you hurt, how many friendships you ruin!"

"Don't say that," she cried.

"Why not? It's the truth. You know, on Wrigley's I almost pounded one of your little discards who wanted to tell Spock that you're trash." He laughed humorlessly. "Who'd have thought you'd go and tell Spock yourself?"

T'Beth drew in a deep, shuddering breath and struggled to keep from breaking down completely. "So that's how you see me. That's all you think I am. Trash."

His eyes left her and followed the movement of a passerby. All across the square, lights were starting to come on.

T'Beth blinked to clear her vision. Unshed tears clung to her eyelashes as she quietly said, "You're probably not going to believe this, but that washed-up cadet on Wrigley's is the last person I've been with. The only one in nearly three years."

"You're right," Jim said without looking at her, "I _don't_ believe it."

The wind blew T'Beth's dark hair across her face. She brushed it aside. "I suppose I can't blame you for thinking that. You really don't know me—not anymore."

"You're probably right," he said bitterly, "and I don't want to, either."

Turning, he strode away.

oooo

T'Beth opened the door to her father's house and peeked in.

"T'Beth, T'Beth!" cried Simon, and with a running start he launched himself into her arms. Her bag of Chinese groceries landed in the entryway. Fortunately, nothing was fragile enough to be ruined.

Hearing the commotion, Lauren came out of the kitchen and helped pick up the mess while she scolded her son. "Simon, one of these days you're going to hurt someone."

"T'Beth is strong," he said.

"Strong enough to give you a good swat," T'Beth declared, but she gave him a kiss instead. Simon tagged after her like an exuberant puppy.

T'Beth loved coming home on weekends. Sometimes she wondered if it was all just a dream, if she would wake up and find out that none of this warm acceptance was real. Today, more than even, she needed her family around her. Just being here with them helped relieve the sting of Jim's rejection, but she would not be content until things were straightened out between them. And for that, she needed her father's help.

T'Beth followed Lauren into the kitchen. "Father said you two are trying to buy the house."

Lauren nodded as she rummaged in her pots and pans. "I think we've just about talked the landlord into it. Your father can be very persuasive."

"Stubborn, you mean."

Lauren flashed a smile. "That, too. You know, he really could do with a warmer climate—and I don't care for the tremors—but our work is right here in San Francisco." She lowered her voice a notch. "And to tell you the truth, I think we're _both_ formed a sentimental attachment to this old place."

Father did not arrive home until dinner was nearly ready. It was some time before T'Beth had a chance to speak to him alone. When Simon went upstairs to practice his violin, they withdrew into the study that adjoined Spock and Lauren's bedroom. They could hear Simon working his way through the passage of a new musical assignment. In six months he had already come a long way from "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star".

"I think he has some real talent," T'Beth remarked.

"Yes," Spock agreed, "but I do not believe that is what you came up here to talk about."

T'Beth sighed and took a seat. Now that she finally had Father all to herself, she was not sure how to begin. Her eyes met his as he sat down in the comfortable chair behind his desk.

Stating what they both already knew, she said, "The Enterprise is in Spacedock."

"Yes."

Every inch of her tensed up. "Yesterday I saw Jim…and…I'm afraid I upset him badly." Father's eyebrow rose. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and stared down at her hands. "I happened to mention our meld…" She heard Spock stir. "He was furious. He's worried that…that you might have seen something about him…something that he considers very private."

Silence, but for the sound of Simon working hard at his violin. The moment stretched unbearably. Blushing, T'Beth ventured a glance at her father. She did not have to ask him what he had seen of Jim in her mind. For a Vulcan, he looked painfully embarrassed.

Father avoided her eyes. "I…chose not to delve deeply into certain matters."

T'Beth became aware of her hands trembling. "But you know…how I felt about Jim…and the way my feelings affected him."

"Yes. I know."

Choking up, she went over and hugged him around the neck. She pressed her cheek against the smooth dark hair so like her own. "You never said anything to me."

"What was there to say?" he asked quietly.

Tears welled and spilled down her face. "Maybe Jim's right. Maybe talking you into that meld _was_ selfish…but I didn't mean to hurt him or put anything in the way of your friendship. You know that as well me. Now all we have to do is make _Jim_ understand."

Father tilted his head and looked up at her, one eyebrow raised even higher than before. "We?"

oooo

There was a part of Spock that would have richly enjoyed pummeling Jim Kirk for having the audacity to lay his philandering hands on T'Beth. Ever since the meld, he had wrestled with the issue. The fact that he had gleaned the knowledge of Kirk's indiscretion by being where he himself did not belong, went a long way to defusing the paternal outrage that he had kept so well hidden. Nevertheless, it was not an easy task that his daughter had set before him.

A week passed before he managed to corner Kirk in his shipboard cabin. Spock had a strong suspicion that the captain of the Enterprise had been actively avoiding him. Now, he saw no reason to prolong what was sure to be an uncomfortable exchange. Meeting Kirk's guarded gaze, he said, "T'Beth asked me to speak with you, and I believe you know why."

Kirk flinched as if Spock _had_ struck him, and looked aside.

When the captain failed to speak, Spock continued, "I cannot deny a certain sense of betrayal, but I have not come here to berate you."

Kirk faced him, clearly guilt-ridden. "But Spock, I _did_ betray you. T'Beth is your daughter. You trusted me with her."

"Yes," Spock dryly agreed. "I did."

The captain began to pace about. "What the hell was I thinking? How could I have let it happen? Spock. I swear, the most I ever did was kiss her—twice. Not that _that_ was right, either…"

Spock interrupted the doleful litany. "Jim," he spoke with studied Vulcan calm, "at one time or another we have all been driven by urges that escape our control."

Kirk stopped short. "It was more than just 'urges', Spock."

Spock nodded. "Yes, I am aware that there were emotions involved."

"Inappropriate emotions. She was only sixteen when it started—but so help me, I couldn't seem to stop myself." Kirk withdrew into his own thoughts, and then said, "Is this what it was like with her mother? Never knowing, never being sure of even your own feelings?"

This, Spock had not expected. Adrianna Lemoine had been gone for decades, but it was not easy for him to speak of the alluring hybrid. Exactly how much did Jim know of her unsettling qualities…and how had he come by that knowledge?

With a sheepish look, Kirk explained, "McCoy told me about Adrianna and her…sensual appeal…when he tried to warn me away from T'Beth. He said that T'Beth likely inherited some Sy powers from her mother. He's been on my back about it ever since."

It was what a human might call an "aha moment". Abruptly Spock understood the baffling conflict he had observed between Kirk and the doctor. The repercussions from Sy involvement seemed to spread in all directions. Gathering his thoughts, he said, "It is well that McCoy explained these matters to you. Had I known what was happening, I would have done the same. There is no doubt that T'Beth inherited some Sy powers from her mother, but since returning from Donari she has gained considerable maturity and self-discipline." He paused. "Jim, she is deeply concerned about what you think of her."

Anger stirred in Kirk's eyes. "What I think of her? Right now I don't know _what_ to think." He sighed and suddenly seemed very weary. "Spock, I wish to God none of this had ever happened. Nothing is more important to me than our friendship. I've already alienated McCoy over this—please tell me I haven't lost you, too."

Spock looked steadily at the captain. They had been friends long before T'Beth—or her mother—came into their lives. Together they had survived disagreements, danger, and death. Surely their friendship would survive even this. "Jim," he said simply, "I will always consider you my friend. As for T'Beth, she is no longer a child. She is free now to make her own decisions…and at this point in her life I trust her to choose wisely, just as I trust you. Your hearts must be your guide."

Kirk was clearly astonished. "Our _hearts,_ Spock? Not our minds?"

Spock selected his words with care. "I have observed that in a healthy individual, the two are seldom—if ever—truly separated."

"But," Kirk objected, "I've seen you…"

"It has taken me years to achieve a workable balance between logic and emotion, and my journey is not yet over." He drew a slow breath. "But I did not come here to discuss philosophies."

Kirk's eyes searched him. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Spock repressed a sigh. His friend read him so easily. He had not yet reached the point where he could discuss personal feelings without experiencing the embarrassment Kirk had detected. He found it very difficult to verbalize affection, even toward his own small son—but occasionally he made the effort. He did not want Simon to grow up, as T'Beth had, hurt and confused by an emotionally distant father.

He could not help but wonder if T'Beth's attraction to Jim—a man so much older than herself—was not due in some part to that hurt and confusion.

"Jim," he said at last, "I am going to speak plainly. You know that my former relationship with T'Beth was often quite confrontational. When she returned from Donari, I found it difficult to believe that all the positive changes in her were genuine. She calls it a 'miracle'. I only know that she has grown considerably, and it may be that you had some part in that."

Kirk's eyes grew moist. "Spock…"

He gestured for silence. "Turn you back on her if you must—but not for my sake. Reject her, if that is what your heart tells you—but first be sure of who it is that you are rejecting."

oooo

T'Beth watched Simon frolic in the foamy waves spreading along the shore that fronted her stepmother's beach house. Though the afternoon was clear, it was too cold for swimming. Not that she really cared. After all the parched, torrid years on Vulcan, she loved just being near the seething expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Best of all, she enjoyed the trust Father and Lauren had displayed by allowing her to bring Simon along to play with her friends.

Bundled up in his bright red jacket, he ran giggling along the damp sand, pursued by Kevin Morrow and Yong Po. Simon's feet tangled and he fell. Kevin and Yong Po dropped over him in a mock football pile-up. Kevin proceeded to reach under Simon's jacket and tickle him, much to the boy's delight.

"Stop it," T'Beth laughed, "you'll make him wet his pants."

"Okay," Kevin said, his dark face smiling wickedly.

Leaping up, he sprinted toward T'Beth, and the others gleefully joined in the chase. T'Beth screamed and ran up the shore, the sand pulling at her shoes. She heard pounding feet and laughter. A strong hand closed over her shoulder. She collapsed, gasping, and two bodies landed on either side. A moment later Simon caught up and threw himself on her.

"Tickle torture!" he cried, wiggling his cold little fingers against her neck.

T'Beth captured his hands and held them easily behind his back. Simon squirmed to free himself.

"No fair," he whined, "let me go!"

Yong Po sat up and frowned at the boy. "You big baby."

Simon thrust out his lip. "Am not!"

"Look at you," Yong Po teased, "big pouty baby."

T'Beth let her brother go. "Simon, don't let him talk to you like that. Get him!"

Simon lunged for the slender Asian, fists swinging.

"Hey, that hurts!" Yong Po fended off the blows with both arms. "Your daddy sees you do that, you'll be in big trouble."

Quiet until now, Kevin sat up suddenly. He shielded his eyes with his hand and peered down the beach. "Well, I'll be damned. I _thought_ I heard a skimmer."

T'Beth got to her feet and followed Kevin's line of vision to the beach house. Simon quit beating Yong Po and looked up at her.

"Kevin said a bad word," the boy tattled.

"Uh-huh," she absently agreed. A second skimmer was parked near theirs, and a man was leaning against it.

"It's Captain Kirk," said Kevin, "I swear to God."

"Uncle Jim!" Simon burst out excitedly.

"You think everybody's your uncle and auntie," quipped Yong Po.

T'Beth saw Simon start to run and grabbed him by the hood of his jacket. "Keep him here," she told her friends. The young men converged on her brother, and with a pounding heart she headed up the beach alone.

It was Jim, alright. Dressed in casual clothes, arms folded, he waited until she was near enough to read the anger in his eyes. Her heart sank. Nothing had changed.

He thrust a finger toward her friends. "Am I interrupting something?"

Giving in to sarcasm, she went through the motions of a long distance introduction. "Captain Kirk, I'd like you to meet Kevin Morrow, the good admiral's son. The other tall one is Chan Yong Po, Lelia's brother. Looking closely, you'll see Simon Spock S'chn T'gai—I believe you've already met him. He's the one jumping up and down yelling 'Uncle Jim, Uncle Jim'. Would you kindly wave back before he bursts his spleen?"

Kirk squinted into the distance, caught sight of Simon, and looked abashed. As he waggled his arm at the boy, T'Beth realized that he had overlooked the little form of his "nephew". He had been all too willing to jump to an unsavory conclusion.

"Thank you," she said stiffly. "Come inside and we can talk—if that's what you came to do."

He followed her into the house where a wood fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth. Hot dogs and marshmallows lay on a nearby table, ready for lunch.

"Cozy," he said in a cool tone.

She offered him a seat, but he shook his head. At that point she could not resist saying, "Would you like to stay for the orgy?"

His eyes flashed.

"It was joke," she said.

"In damn poor taste."

Sighing, she dropped onto the sofa. The furniture was old and a bit shabby. It was so comfortable, she had never really noticed before—or cared.

Looking her over, Jim said, "I'm trying to understand what it is that your father sees in you."

Her heart leaped. "Then you talked to him."

He turned from her and stared into the flames. "I've never known anyone quite like Spock."

"He said it didn't make any difference, didn't he? That he still considers you his friend."

He nodded in silence. She thought with regret of all the years she had spent, too self-absorbed see what sort of man she really had for a father. Softly she said, "You have to love someone like that."

Jim turned around and looked at her strangely. "He said something else, too."

"Oh?" She waited, more than a little curious.

"It doesn't matter. I should never have touched you. It was wrong."

The words cut her heart like a knife, but she refused to cry. Rising, she confronted him, her throat tight with emotion. "Okay, so we both know it was wrong. But I want you to know…that I care deeply what you think of me. I guess I always have."

Silence hung between them.

"It's alright," she said at last, "I don't really expect any forgiveness. I suppose it's too late for that."

He opened his mouth to speak, but there was a sudden racket on the porch. The front door burst open and in rushed Simon, followed by two apologetic looking young men.

"Sorry," Yong Po said, "he said he was starving to death…and he looked a little pale."

"Besides," Kevin added, "we were starting to freeze our buns."

Simon clamored for Jim's attention. The captain picked him up and Simon placed his icy hands on Jim's face. "See?" Simon laughed as Jim pretended to shiver.

"Silly boy," Yong Po said. "Those aren't your buns."

Simon wiggled free from Jim and grabbed a package of hot dog rolls. "Here they are. Let's eat!"

She made him wait while she properly introduced Jim to her friends, then invited the captain to share in their meal. Jim declined, and she followed him outdoors to his skimmer.

"I'm glad you came," she said, searching his face. Had the hardness in his eyes lessened? She smiled a little. "Why are you so tough to convince? I'm not a selfish little teenager anymore. I'm not out to get you."

For a moment he gazed at the ocean somberly, as if consulting his heart. He boarded his skimmer and looked at her. "There's an old saying. 'Two wrongs don't make a right'. It was wrong then…and it will always be wrong. Let's just leave it at that." Engaging the motor, he took off and flew inland.

oooo

A distant doorchime roused Doctor McCoy from a light doze. Just back from a day in Georgia, he had nodded off in his favorite chair. The grandkids had really worn him out.

The chime came again.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, heading for the door.

He opened it and found Spock standing on the front porch holding a potted flower. He blinked. Yes, he was awake. He was sure of it.

"Hello, Doctor," said the Vulcan.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Spock." He peered out into the twilight, half expecting to see Simon tagging along with his father, but the yard was empty. "Where's your sidekick?"

Spock gave him a blank look. Totally lost, as usual.

"Never mind," McCoy sighed, stepping out of the way. "Why don't you and your friend come on in?"

Now Spock took a backward glance, and finding himself alone, raised an eyebrow. And came into the house. Once the door was shut, he held out the plant to McCoy. It was a tea rose in full bloom, an exquisitely delicate shade of lavender that gave off an equally exquisite scent.

Warily McCoy took it into his hands and admired it. "Beware of Vulcans bearing gifts." He looked Spock in the eye. "It's not my birthday—not that I can recall you ever giving me a birthday present, for that matter."

"I thought," Spock said, "that it would go well in your garden."

McCoy sniffed suspiciously at one of the blossoms, and then set the pot on a table near the door. He knew Spock well enough to tell that there was something going on beneath that carefully composed exterior. "Thank you, Spock—it's beautiful. But you didn't have to bring a gift just to see me. You're welcome anytime."

"Most kind," Spock said. After an awkward moment he added, "The rose is…what you might call a 'peace offering'."

McCoy gave a bemused smile. "Peace offering? Spock, I wasn't aware of any trouble between us."

Once more Spock hesitated. "The trouble is not between _us,_ Doctor."

"Oh?"

Spock looked at the roses. He ran his fingers across the polished wood surface of the table. Then his dark eyes abruptly fastened on McCoy. "I have come to ask that you—leave Jim in peace."

McCoy felt a stab deep in his gut. His voice almost failed him. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about Captain Kirk," Spock said patiently, "and my daughter."

McCoy felt weak in the knees. "You mean you've found out—"

"Yes."

"Sweet Lord," McCoy said, and sank into the nearest chair.

Spock's watchful eyes studied him. "Are you alright?"

McCoy looked up at the Vulcan in disbelief. "Isn't that supposed to be my line? Aren't you the least bit upset that your best friend is involved with your daughter?"

"I am attempting," Spock said, "to approach the matter logically."

 _"Logically!"_

"And I am asking you to do the same."

McCoy stared at the Vulcan, but all he could see was T'Beth's youthful face blushing at sixteen, and the look of guilt in Jim's eyes as he stood beside her in the woods at Yosemite. Caught red-handed, or almost. Maybe they hadn't been doing "it", but they had damn well been doing something headed in that general direction. And there had been that other time in Iowa, when McCoy found evidence that seemed even more incriminating…

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Spock. Maybe you're a better man than me, but I just can't let it go that easily. Why, if it had been my daughter Joanna at that age…"

"But it was not," Spock pointed out. "You know the implications of T'Beth's Sy heritage. And as a doctor, as a father, as a human, you are also aware of the sexual experimentation that can occur at adolescence. Even I myself—" He abruptly fell silent.

"You yourself _what?"_ All of a sudden, this was getting interesting.

Very quietly Spock said, "Even I had some firsthand knowledge of adolescent sexuality."

McCoy sat up ramrod straight. By now his mind was fairly reeling. "Spock, even _you?_ On _Vulcan?_ Do tell!"

But Spock had no intention of telling. "The details are of no importance. Suffice it to say that what came about between Jim and T'Beth is understandable, perhaps even inevitable, considering her nature…and his."

"The Kirk charm," mused McCoy, "and a lonely Sy teen. A combustible mix, alright." He rubbed at the beginnings of a headache stirring in his temples. "Okay, Spock. Peace it is. That's what you want, isn't it?"

There was no need for the Vulcan to answer. Instead he simply said, "Thank you", and was gone.

It might all have been a strange dream, except for the pot of sweet lavender roses on the table beside the door. And that image of Spock as a Vulcan Romeo, teasing away at McCoy's mind…

oooo

Shortly after midnight Kirk entered his high-rise and yawning, rode the lift to his floor. He was glad that he had gone out for a few drinks. The warm, intoxicated feeling practically guaranteed that he would drop right off to sleep.

Leaving the lift, he headed down the dimly lit hallway to his apartment. He was almost to his door before he noticed the dark, motionless shape huddled beside it. Startled, he came to a halt.

"It's just me," a voice spoke softly.

Kirk's heart lurched in recognition. All thought of sleep fled as T'Beth stood up and door's courtesy light shone on her face.

"What do you want?" he blurted in a low voice.

"Just a few minutes of your time," she answered. "Don't worry, I'll be good."

He tried to summon fresh anger against her, but his emotions were in turmoil. What did she hope to accomplish by coming here at this hour? No matter what she—or her father—had said, he could not fully trust her. Or _himself._

"Open the door," she said. "Please?"

He saw little choice. It was better than talking here in the hall where someone might overhear them. Wordlessly she slipped into his apartment. Kirk triggered the lights and took off his coat before turning his attention to his young guest.

She was particularly beautiful tonight. Her sleek dark hair had been braided on the crown of her head. The lower part swayed free on her shoulders as she flipped off her black cloak and tossed it over a chair. Underneath, she was dressed like a Vulcan in warm layers of violet and gold.

"What do you think?" she asked, whirling about to give him the full effect. "It was a present from Sarek and Amanda on my 21st birthday. Did I tell you that I'm majoring in xeno-diplomacy? Sarek is 'most pleased'."

"Nice," Kirk said brusquely. "So the Border Patrol just tore up your enlistment papers."

"Let's just say…we mutually agreed to part company."

"They kicked you out."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"And I can't say that I'm sorry," Kirk admitted. "The Patrol is a deathtrap. You were very lucky to come out alive."

Her hazel eyes warmed. "So you _do_ care."

He fought a dangerous tugging in his heart. "Okay, the fashion show is over. What now? The grand scene of seduction?"

Shaking her head, she said, "Jim, I'm worried about you."

The words annoyed him. "Worried? What for? I'm just fine."

"Really? You've been drinking."

Was it that obvious? Kirk went to the tall bank of windows and gazed out at the bay. In the darkness the water looked smooth and black. There was barely time to collect his thoughts before T'Beth came up behind him. He could feel her body very close—too close—but not quite touching.

"Drinking to forget," she said, "but it won't be that simple—for either of us."

Her hand closed over his shoulder and he tensed, knowing it was no use. With the liquor in him, he would not stand a chance against her. But this time something _was_ different. Her touch lacked the wrenching sweep of sensual energy that he remembered so well… and still yearned for. He closed his eyes and felt only the warm pressure of her fingers. Then she let go. _Was that all? No heady show of Sy conquest?_

"See?" She spoke barely above a whisper. "It's not going to happen. It's never going to happen again." And then, the very words he had once spoken to her. "Because I really do care about you."

Inwardly bracing, Kirk turned and searched her burnt-amber eyes. She smiled back, as sweet and fresh as the dawning of a summer day. So it was true. She really _had_ changed. Is that why she had come to his apartment, where they would be completely alone? To prove that she was no longer predatory?

Bidding him goodnight, she put on her cloak and walked out the door, leaving him to deal with his rioting emotions.

 _Never again._ The thought should have reassured him. Then why did his heart feel like it was breaking in two?


End file.
